Welcome to Harmony (23 page)

She pulled her thoughts away from the threat of trouble and watched people wandering around the grounds. Some of the middle school kids in front of her hadn’t seen any of the rodeo. They were too busy walking from one end of the stands to the other, or talking, or hopping from bench to bench. Three blond girls about fourteen were dressed like they thought they were going to a beach party and had gotten off at the wrong stop. Even though it was after dark, they still wore their sunglasses.

Little kids played under the bleachers, and a group of men were taking a smoke break over by the parked cars. Reagan almost preferred the “no name” rodeo to this one. Too many people. She recognized most of their faces, and most smiled or waved at her, but she really didn’t know them.

Speaking of too many people, Brandon Biggs stepped on the empty seat next to her with a hard pound that wiggled the entire bleacher. He had on army-style boots and a jacket the local giant must have lent him. Brandon could have wrapped it twice around his stocky frame.

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

“If you’ll behave yourself,” she answered.

“If I accidentally forgot, the scar on my leg from the heel of your shoe would remind me.”

“How did things go the other night after we left?”

“Me and the Fraser boys had a real nice visit.” He leaned over. “They’re nothing but trash, you know.”

She snorted. Whatever.

As the announcer introduced the next rider, two of the three middle school blondes stood up. Brandon yelled for them to sit down or they’d be needing the dark glasses to hide a black eye.

The girls squealed indignantly, but sat down.

The first bull rider managed to hang on to the count of seven.

When the cowboy hit the dirt, Brandon stood.

“I better move on. Everyone knows you’re Noah’s girl.”

She thought better of correcting him. “Brandon,” she smiled, “before I get mad at you and forget it, thanks for what you did the other night.”

He stood just a bit straighter. “You’re welcome.”

She watched him push his way down, pestering a few of the middle school kids just for the hell of it.

The announcer yelled that Preacher McAllen was the next rider. Reagan stood up.

Noah came out of the chute spinning on a bull that looked like he’d breathed in smoke and couldn’t wait to blow it out. She’d never seen one buck so high. Noah’s free hand reached for the sky as he gripped tight, and the battle between man and bull went full force.

With snot flying, the bull turned left toward the gates, snorting and heaving, and then suddenly twisted right.

Noah tumbled as if snapped off as quick as an icicle breaks.

He rolled, but the bull was still kicking in a tight circle.

Reagan screamed as Noah’s body curled and twisted beneath the animal.

Noah was on the ground, fighting to crawl free, but the bull kept turning like a mixer, catching him with every turn. The clowns she’d watched and laughed at took on their real job, bullfighters. They moved in, trying to get the bull’s attention. The first caught a horn in his side and slammed into the chute gate; the second tumbled backward on the uneven ground.

For one heartbeat there was no one near to help Noah.

The pickup men couldn’t get close and the bull paid no attention to the last rodeo clown, a kid in training, as he waved and danced like a medicine man around a fire.

Reagan couldn’t breathe. She counted seconds in her head as if at some point there would be a bell and the round would be over.

“Don’t let him die,” she whispered.

As if in answer, a tall man jumped down from the back fence and swung his hat at the bull. When that didn’t work, the man spread his arms wide and rushed forward with his chest.

The animal charged the stranger, his horns pointed straight at the red shirt beneath the man’s western suit.

Like a matador in the movies, the stranger jumped out of the way a second before the bull reached him. A heartbeat later, the riders had their ropes, swinging them like whips as they turned the bull toward the corral.

It had all happened so fast, yet the seconds had seemed endless. Reagan began to shake as the bull charged into the corral. Nothing had prepared her for such panic, such violence, such fear. For those few seconds with Noah under the bull, the entire world seemed to be holding its breath.

She watched Noah, expecting him to stand and wave that he was all right, as all the others had done.

But Noah lay curled in the dirt like a broken toy cowboy. His hat was gone. Dark hair mixed with shiny red blood covered part of his face.

The stranger who’d saved him knelt at Noah’s side. The crowd fell silent. Everyone watched as the doctor ran out with his bag. A circle of men all knelt around Noah, blocking any view from spectators. Behind the chutes, emergency lights flashed through silent air and an EMT van pulled to the edge of the arena. The announcer’s voice seem to whisper in the air, “Preacher may need your prayers tonight, folks.”

Reagan pushed her way from the stands and headed toward him. By the time the stretcher was brought onto the grounds, she’d crawled through the fence and was almost to Noah.

She saw his face, gray-white as they lifted him carefully and began to carry him out. She tried to see him as they put him in the ambulance, but there were too many men, all taller than she was.

The sirens sounded as she screamed his name, but Noah couldn’t hear her. For a moment in the chaos, she couldn’t hear herself.

The door closed and red lights flashed. She heard someone yell to call the sheriff and let her know her brother was heading to the hospital.

Reagan backed away to the shadows of the bleachers. She shoved hot tears off her cheek. Noah was all right, she thought. He had to be.

The rodeo went on, but people had lost interest. She waited in the darkness, not wanting to talk to anyone or see anyone.

She wanted to be with Noah. She wanted to know what was going on. She crossed her arms around her and wished she could hug away the pain she felt inside. If this was what it felt like to care about someone, it hurt too much.

“You all right?” A voice came out of nowhere.

She turned and saw Brandon. “No,” she said. “Where’s the hospital?”

“It’s all the way north on North. I pass it every time I come in from Bailee. You sure you’re all right?”

Reagan shoved her fingers into the pocket of Noah’s jacket. She felt his truck keys, as she knew she would. “I’m fine. I’m going to check on him.”

Brandon opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind.

She circled beneath the bleachers and crossed the darkness to where Noah had parked his pickup.

“Eight,” she whispered to herself. “He was only on the ground eight seconds.”

ALEX WISHED SHE WERE AT THE RODEO INSTEAD OF DRIVING the back roads looking for any sign of a spark. It had been two weeks since the last fire. If trouble was going to flame, it would be soon. The guy they were looking for had set maybe as many as seven fires in the past three months. Either he was hooked on the adrenaline of what damage each new one might cause, or he loved to watch the flames build and grow. She could almost see him in her mind, planning, waiting maybe for more wind or a time when he thought no one was watching.

Waiting for her to blink.

She had no intention of blinking. This was her town, by blood and by occupation. She wouldn’t let someone destroy it. She glanced at the man beside her and knew Hank felt the same.

In the past dozen days, she’d seen Matheson about ten times and talked to him on the phone at least twice a day. Neither had mentioned the parking lot episode. She had no idea if he thought about it as much as she did. Hell, it had become her favorite bedtime story on those nights she didn’t fall asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Alex stopped her cruiser at the crossroads of Lone Oak Road and the county highway. Hank got out with his binoculars while she stepped to the front of the car and searched the horizon. They’d been riding together for two hours, both constantly checking in with all other spotters. They’d had a feeling it would be tonight, but now she had her doubts.

Hank wanted them to go together over what he called the eye of the circle. He was guessing they’d be able to spot something first, and if they did, both could be in contact with their people at once. With luck, if a fire started, the police could cut off all exits out of the area and the fire department could move in fast. Putting out the fire would be first priority, but catching the criminal would run a close second.

“Nothing,” Alex said for the tenth time in an hour.

“Nothing,” Hank echoed.

They both knew that all the other fires had been set before nightfall. It was almost an hour after dark. If someone had set a fire, it would be burning bright enough to be seen for miles on a clear night like tonight.

“I’ll check and see if Derwood’s called in yet.” He lifted his cell and nodded toward her radio.

She understood. She picked up the receiver to call dispatch.

She could hear Hank talking as she waited for dispatch to answer. One ring. Two. Three.

“Derwood called in ten minutes ago,” Hank reported as he snapped his phone closed and circled to her side of the car. “Nothing. He’s making another flyover, then I told him to call it a night.” Hank sounded tired. They’d been chasing a ghost every night since the last fire. Both were exhausted.

She’d thought tonight would be the night, almost wished for it, so they could catch the criminal and this all would be over. Even going back to changing the lightbulb outside Dallas Logan’s house looked good compared to what she had been doing.

Fourth ring, then just as the fifth one dinged, someone picked up at dispatch.

“Alex,” Andy’s voice scratched across the radio. “Sheriff McAllen!”

“Here,” she answered as she reached into the car to turn up the speaker so Hank could also hear. “What’s the problem? Any fire?”

“No fire,” Andy was almost screaming at her. “All quiet in that area, but, Sheriff, your brother, Noah, is on his way to the hospital. He was hurt at the rodeo.”

Alex dropped the radio and grabbed her binoculars resting on the hood.

When she turned back to her door, Hank was already there, shoving her aside. “I’ll drive. You call in and see if you can find out anything.”

She ran to the passenger side. Andy had patched her through to the ambulance by the time Hank hit eighty miles per hour.

“He’s breathing,” she echoed what the EMT said. “Looks like a blow to the head and multiple wounds on his arms and legs.” Alex paused, then added, “I heard.”

“What?” Hank glanced over at her. “Alex, what else?”

She looked at him, but didn’t really see him as she repeated the driver’s words. “My dad’s riding in the ambulance with Noah. Adam was at the rodeo.”

Five minutes later, they were pulling up to the county hospital. They jumped out and headed inside at a full run. The ambulance had emptied its load, and everyone had disappeared behind the emergency room doors.

The waiting room and desk were deserted. The place looked old and tired. Alex felt she was walking through death’s parlor; she kept moving.

They ignored the sign that read AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY at the next set of swinging doors.

Adam McAllen, tall, thin, and gray-haired, stood alone at the end of the hallway that was marked NO ENTRY. He looked strong as a statue, but she didn’t miss the worry in his deep blue eyes. He was dressed like the successful businessman he was, except for the blood that was spattered across his jacket and the dirt-stained knees of his trousers.

Alex didn’t move into her father’s arms. There had been too many times he hadn’t been there for her. Her brothers might have come to terms with their father leaving their mother, but Alex never had.

Adam held his daughter in his stare but made no move to touch her. “They took him straight to the operating room to do the examination. Both doctors on duty are with him.”

“What . . .” Alex wasn’t even sure which questions to ask.

“I don’t know anything,” he admitted. “But I think it would be wise to call your mother.”

Alex wanted to scream that he should call his own wife. After all, they were still married even though he never called her anything but
your mother
, and they hadn’t seen each other more than a dozen times since Warren’s funeral three years ago.

But there was no time for that. Noah was all that mattered right now.

Alex walked to the windows and dialed her mother.

IN A MATTER OF MINUTES, THE LITTLE WAITING AREA WAS filled with friends, family and high school kids. If anyone in town had need of the emergency room tonight, they’d have to fight their way in.

The crowd parted as Frances McAllen rushed in. She was wearing a peach jogging suit and looked fit enough to step out on the fifty-yard line and cheer at the Dallas Cowboys football games. Thirty years of being a mother might have turned her hair silver-blond and carved tiny wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but she was still a beauty.

Frances went straight to her husband.